CHAPTER XXV.—Continued.

Tuapeka Times, Volume XXIV, Issue 1905, 18 June 1892, Page 1 (Supplement)

CHAPTER XXV.— Continued.

*' Thanks, the friendly Maori is waiting for me at the base of the ridge. Good nijiht ! I trust the fortunes of war will bring you honor and distinction. Have you any commands for the city ?" " None, Fernbrook. Au revoir !" The tall figure goes down the hill whistling a snatch of- a familiar opera air, and Colonel Ward srocs the round "of the sentinels to see that they are alert on their posts. It is after midnight when he returns. The temporary mess-room hns been turned into a sleeping apartment by the addition of a few armfuls of fraurant ferns, and on which the stalwart forms of some half-a-dozen officers are now stretched in heavy slumber. Phil Brock brings his master his cloak. "Who's that gintleman ye had dining wid ye?" he asks. "Don'c you know Mr Fernbrook, Phil ?" " Indade I do not," responds the old man with an obstinate j^rk of his head. " Who's <o tell Mr Fernbrook from the man that's been taken for him during the Inst few years an' more when even his nuld nurse didn't know the difference. Tell me that now ?" Ward pauses in the act of unbuckling his sword belt. " Why, you don't mean to say that you suspect our friend to be that scoundrel Victor M-iuprat, the convict ?" " Why not?" says Brock coolly. "Pooh! You old fool, you've been drinking." " Oh, thank ye. If T have, ngra. it's only taking pattern after my betrhers, I've been !" cies Phil, br'stling up. " Maybe if you had been les^ occupied with the punch, an 1 minding your duty, you would have askod yourself the question :—' Whit the divil's this man doin' here, I wonder V As I did when I saw him enter the tint. Murk that." One of the prostrate officers ro3e into a silting position. "By jove Colonel, there may be something in what the old fellow says," he cried. "Thrue for ye, Captain Harrington. Musha I'm glad to meet one man of sinse amon^yez." " You remember, this fellow Miuprat and his confederates are known to be in the camp of the rebels," cont'nuos Captain Harrington, not heeding the remark of the confidential. ' : What more probable than this adventurer, with his wonderful resemblance to young Fernbrook, should seek to personate him even now r "With what object, Captain ?" " If your man's supposition he correct, we shall not have far to look for an object," ansvers Harrington, rising to his feet. "It strikes me our guest was very particular in his enquiries about matters which I don't think would have troubled a non-military man like Fernbrook, though T confers it did not strike me so at the t : me. We have a convoy of ammunition, fifty thousand rounds, for our comrades at Tonga's Peak. Report says that "Paul Titori is short of this chief staple of war, and is offering for lead its own weight in gold co : n. I am not an alarmist, my dear fellow, but forewarned is to be forearmed." •' Your zeal ia commendable, Harrington, but I certainly cannot have been deceived in the face of an old friend whom I have known from a boy," say the Colonel, smiling. " Hilton Fernbrosk and I went to St. John's College together for three years," answers the Captain, "Last Christmas I went to the Barrier to visit my friend, and remained in the house for a month without discovering the difference between my college chnrn and a rascally convict." The Colonel laughs. "E?ad, you were not singular in that respect, my dear fellow. After all I may have been mistaken. We will give Victor Mauprat the benefit of the doubt. Brock go quickly along and ask Lieutenant Howard to look in here for a few minutes." Exit Phil with a look of satisfaction. "It will be ns well to double the sentries, and place them further down the ridge," continues the Colonel, after a moment's reflection. " Will you be good enough to see that it's done, Harrington ?" In half an hour t,he Rifles are standing to their arms in rear of the little column of man of war's men, drawn up a little to the left of the two stuns, which have been placed in a favorable position under the command of Lieutenant Howard. Not a few of the men wonder what is the matter I They convers-3 in low tones speculating upon a brush from the enemy. Some have it that the rebels are marching in force to intercept th^m, and cut them off from joining Colonel Chesterton. Others whisper that Maories never fight in the darkness, and' the standing to their aroas is only a ruse to got them accustomed to their work in the field.

Tbe hours go slowly, expectantly, by, one — two — three o'clock.

Hark ! Crack, crack, boom the rifles of outlying seutries. Not in one spot are seen the sudden flashes of the musketry, but in a circle of living fire round the base of the ridge.

Colonel Ward has just time to form his men into quarter column of companies when the scout 3 fall hurriedly back upon the main body. Some of thera never get back at all, for in the dim light a broad dark line is seen to advance, and swallow

them up, tior pause until the hilltop is gamed — then, with a wild uncarth l y yell, which makes a vibrating echo along* tho adjacent hilt — the head of the advancing rebel host rushes upon certain destruction. With admirable coolness the gunners wait their opportunity, then the murderous missiles belch forth and plough a wide lane adown the living wall. Spite of guns ; spite of more than one deadly volley, the intrepid warriors gain the ridge, and hold it. Nothing can ever stem their determined, headlong rush. "Death to the Pakeha !" Above the din, rolling and swelling, like nothing else on thia fair earth, save the Boises that men make when the ferocious an I brute part of thflm is let loose and are rampant in deadly conflict. Te Huri, the giant, with a white man by his side, dresßed in tight fitting coat of mica flax, led the van and seemed to bear charmed lives. There is no light , for manoeuvres, no room for military tactics. It is a give and take encounter in every stage of its dreadful progress. Maori and Pakaha go down together in death's hug silently and without a groan. " Death to the Pakeha !" The voice of the huge rebel leader sounds loud nnd clear as the trumpet's bla9t, above the roar of voices. He and hi 3 companion with the flaxen tamba have -penetrated into the solid ranks of the volunteers and tank and file go down before their meris like so many dried reeds beneath a mower's scythe. " Death to the Pakeha 1" The Maori war cry is answered by cheer after cheer from bands of twenty and lesH, who stand shoulder to shoulder, and fight vrith desperato courage against long odds. Colonel Ward is down, his body pierced with more than one gaping wound. While his strength lasts his voice is heard crying to the Rifles to stand fast and use the bayonet. The order is needless. The bayonet is the only weapon that cau be brought into play now, for the men have no time to load. Round and about the guns the battle seems to wage fiercest. The dead and wounded are literally lying here in a heap, forming a rampart round the remnant of gallant tars, who stand to be slaughtered at their posts rather than retreat a single pace. This spot forms the rallyirg point for the hard pressed volunteers. The superior force hurled against them has riven their columns in shreds and patches, but the first fierce thunderous onslaught of 'he Maories past, they re-unite again and form square with the small battery in the centre. Not all the dash .and daring of the warriors can break the ranks of the hated Pakehaa. Again and again the rebel leaders hurl their best men against it, but they are driven back with ruthless butchery. Long before daybreak the rebel host, beaten and discomfited are in full retreat, leaving a spectacle behind them that is appalling to. the eye of day. On the self same morning that witnessed the sanguinary battle of Te Ranga Mrs. Victorine Garland and her companion, Te Cora, arrived at Wairoa. The news came to them as it came to others on that fair morn— news of a battle won, and of brave men bleeding to death for want of succour and attendance. And ths woman, who had consecrated herself ac the shrine of charity, put aside self and began her labor of love. Every available resource that could aid her was put into requisition. The wounded were conveyed into Wairoa. ' Medical men rode post from Tauranga. Tents, bedding, and all tli6 requirements needed followed them, and in short, before midnight the little township had been transformed into a temporary hospital. Inthestrangey.of all strange positions were found the wounded and the dead at Te Ranga. Phil Brock, with both lega broken, lay near the senseless and bloody form of his master. Both were ringed in by the dusky bodies of dead warriors. When they lifted the old man to bear him away, he thrust them back with a startled cry. "Amos, darlint, my dear, tinderhearted masther, where are ye, acushla ? It's old Phil that's calling ye ! Spake to '■ me ! Spake to me ! Och hone ! Dead, dead ! " But Amos Ward was not dead.